Author's Notes: Another story that has been on my computer for a while. This one was inspired by the "Owner's Manual" fics; in particular, the one by Diamond Mask. Anyway, as usual: I do not own Greed, but Lissa Quinn belongs to me. Enjoy :) Re-wrote some of this first chapter on 1-03-2012.
My day had started off well enough, although I did have to get up super early. I went through the usual morning routine, had a quick breakfast, and then I had went to my parents house, where my friends had all gathered for my birthday party. There had been cake and presents and all that happy birthday jazz. Mostly, I got cheap jewelry, stuffed animals, books, and manga from my friends. My parents, on the other hand, had told me that they had sent my present to my house and that when I returned home it should be there waiting for me.
As I drove home, I had wondered what they might have gotten me. I thought it had to be something really good, if they had sent it to my house instead of letting me open it up at their house. Then, I actually arrived home and was greeted by the sight of this giant box in my living room. How it had gotten there? I have no idea, and will probably never find out. My parents or a friend, or maybe two friends, may have snuck away from my party to come here and used one of my spare keys to bring it in here. I imagine they had one hell of a time dragging such a big box all the way to the living room. It didn't look light.
So, there I was, standing in my living room at 8PM, staring at the gigantic box sitting in the middle of the room. I didn't even know they made boxes this large! Some would have said that this was the best birthday gift ever: who gets presents that come in boxes that are over six feet tall? Not me. Well, I do have a six foot tall box in my living room right now, and it is a birthday gift, but I would not call it the best gift ever. Well, maybe I would. If it weren't for the five bold letters in golf on the front of the box, and the instruction manual that I held in my hand.
I swallowed as I read the bold letters on the box. Oh man, this has to be some kind of mistake... Or a nightmare... I mean, of course I knew that these things existed. Some of my friends had bought some, although not this particular model. But, why had my parents bought me this? I mean, these things weren't exactly cheap, and my parents weren't exactly rich. They must have been saving for months to get me this! Or, maybe my friends pitched in? Maybe they had given my parents the idea to buy me this in the first place. Why couldn't they have just given me a dog, or even a cat? I like cats, and dogs, too.
"GREED." I said them out loud, the five bold, golden letters embroidered on the box spelling G-R-E-E-D. I glanced down at the instruction manual that I held in my hand, and then I brought it closer to my face and started to read it. The first page had the technical specifications and listed the accessories included. My eyes scanned the page over. Bones...? My stomach twisted into knots at the thought. Why on Earth would this thing come with bones? I flipped to the next page. Ah, that clarifies it... A little...
I finished reading the unpacking instructions and then set the manual down a safe distance away, on a table, before I returned to stand in front of the box. I held my breath as I grabbed at the skull that I only now noticed was embedded in the front of the box. I hope I don't actually have to bash something with this... I thought, remembering what the instructions had said to do. I held the skull in my right hand and flinched slightly when the box started shaking violently. I suddenly got the feeling that I might actually regret deciding to open this box, instead of asking for a refund or turning it in for a different model.
After a few minutes of staring at the shaking box, the front flap popped open, nearly hitting me in the face. I hadn't realized that I had still been holding my breath until I let it out in a gasp at that moment. Out of the box walked a dark haired, muscular man who stood, I estimated, six feet tall. It only looks like a man, Lissa.I told myself as he glanced around the room. A moment later, he finally noticed me. I almost let out a squeak of surprise as his eyes met mine and he smiled. O, gawd... What did the instructions say to do now? My mind groped desperately for what I had read in the instruction manual only moments before.
Skull... Hold the skull up... I told myself, remembering some of the instructions. I lifted my right hand up, the one that held the skull, and pointed it in the man's direction. He seemed to find this quite funny, as he started laughing at me. And he continued to laugh as I stood there, still pointing the skull at him for several long moments. Flustered, my cheeks burned red with embarrassment. I shook my head for a moment to clear it and then looked at him with a serious and stern expression.
"I... I'm your Mistress." I said loudly, emphasizing the word 'mistress'. He stopped laughing and gazed back at me, looking slightly curious, in a way. "Understand...?" I squeaked at him quietly. Maybe this was a Japanese model? I was about to start speaking Japanese, which I had, thankfully, learned a couple of years ago for a trip, when he finally spoke.
"I understand... Mistress." He said, chuckling at his use of the word 'mistress' before glancing at the skull in my hand. I let out a sigh of relief before I grabbed a bag out of the box, having to reach around him in order to grab it. I opened it, trying not to pay too much attention to the various bones in side as I dropped the skull carefully into the bag. Then, I searched the box further until I had found a tattoo sheet. I turned back to my new 'unit', as the instructions had called it, and peeled off the tattoo. I motioned for him to come over and he, thankfully, obliged, albeit slowly. But, at least he didn't just ignore me. I made a grab for his left arm and, once I had hold of it, promptly stuck the tattoo on the top of his left hand.
After that was done, I plopped down on the couch and let out another sigh of relief. That had gone fairly well, as far as I could tell. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all? I quickly discarded that thought when my new unit sat down beside me on the couch, looking at me over the top of his glasses, which he must have plucked out of the box. Hold on a second... Maybe it was just my imagination, but... I thought he seemed to checking me out. His eyes were looking me up and down, and I felt my cheeks burning again. I shouldn't have opened that box. I should have turned it in for a different model. Or a refund. Or gave it to someone else to deal with.
I wasn't exactly what you'd call "bad-looking", although I certainly have low self-esteem in that area. My parents and friends don't know why, and they always tell me that I'm pretty. I have a slim figure, too slim, I think. My bright chestnut hair, which I've never been a big fan of, fans out around my head, with a few long bangs brushed to the right and partly concealing the right half of my face. Some of my friends have told me that it gives me a "mysterious and sensual air".
I gulped as I stared back at my new unit. He gave me a toothy grin and I almost fainted on the spot. This isn't good... Not good... I repeated over and over in my mind. He was looking at me as if I were a piece of meat. Oh, gawd... And then he asked, "Where's the bedroom?" And, just like that, I was out like a light.